


I'm Crooked But Upright

by yobas



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Relationships, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Sex Tapes, Sex Toys, dubious use of rhys's echo eye, sorta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yobas/pseuds/yobas
Summary: The temptation to use his ECHO eye for something a little more thrilling proves to be too strong for Rhys to resist. Recording the intimacies between him and Jack is a risky move – he's well aware. But he wants something to take home and enjoy when they were apart, something that'll help him recall the excitement at its peak. If Jack were to ever find out he was doing such a thing, however...





	I'm Crooked But Upright

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired from an amusing conversation with friends a couple of nights ago. I can't exactly...recall all the details of said conversation, but! This was the general idea. Anyway, enjoy Rhys being a sneaky horny little bastard.

Face hot with sweat trickling down his back already, Rhys bites his lower lip hard as Jack approaches the bed again. An idea comes to mind but it dissipates just as fast, too easily distracted by the broad hands now spreading his legs further apart. Always so quick to manipulate him, bend his body this way and that, never subtle in making it brutally obvious that he was an object for Jack’s pleasure.

Not that Rhys cared. He  _ enjoyed _ being a toy in Jack’s grasp, as much as he might verbally protest the statement. But with both arms propping his torso up enough for him to watch as a deliciously slender and curved glass object shimmers in the light, he really doesn’t care what anyone might say about his current position.

The last half an hour spent with his back to the plush, soft covers of the bed, Rhys endured the torture of Jack’s tongue tracing around his sensitive hole. Firm hands pressed against the undersides of his thighs as both legs were held open, forcing him to remain exposed as if any fiber of his being would suddenly attempt to revolt against the tantalizing act.

So as the now lubed toy slips against his already thoroughly teased body, Rhys pushes himself up further on his elbows, holding his breath as his gaze is pulled up to lock onto his partner. The urge to beg out ‘please’ in a decidedly needy and lustful voice is at the tip of his tongue.

“Looks like  _ someone _ wants it, huh?” Jack sneers, seeming all too composed considering how long the pair had been together on the bed.

Rhys hates how calm the older man appeared still, only his torso bare compared to Rhys’s own entirely naked body splayed wide atop the sheets. Having him maintain such a relaxed state even after rimming of all things – it’s too alluring, too maddening; the fact alone that he could continue like this was enough to drive Rhys up a wall. He could never replicate that self-control, much less master it like Jack.

Which is probably why he loved to recall these moments when he was on his own. Fantasizing about his body being touched, forced into submission or whatever it was Jack demanded that day… Feeling his body betray him as he further slipped into a messy, trembling state while his partner remained calm and collected.  _ Ah– _

Without thinking about it a second longer, Rhys activates the recording function on his ECHO eye, the scene before him to be saved in a secure location for future enjoyment. It’s the idea that had flickered through his mind only a few minutes prior, quickly lost to the more intruding, lewd thoughts that had been dominating his consciousness at the time. Difficult to think about anything else with a practiced tongue stimulating his most sensitive parts.

Seeing the tiny recording icon light up in one corner of his vision as Jack begins to push the cool glass toy inside has Rhys feeling dizzy. He lets out a quiet, breathy shudder, struggling not to close his eyes as the object penetrates him further. It’s obscenely difficult, his vision blurring momentarily while the slick toy is pulled out almost entirely.

“Gonna come for me, cupcake?”  


Jack’s voice registers in Rhys’s ECHO eye perfectly, indicated by a reactive quivering line scrolling across the bottom of his vision that might as well be the twitch of his own cock. He knows he has to answer, he can’t go long without responding unless he wants to be denied any orgasm tonight. His voice comes out shaky from arousal as well as growing embarrassment at what he was secretly doing. “Y-Yes, Jack, hah–”

It’s satisfying for Jack, it seems, his reaction to the brief reply translating to the form of a twisting wrist applying enough pressure to the glass toy for Rhys to crumble. Eyes fluttering shut, head tilting back, he moans, his body acting on its own to try and impale itself further. He tries to quickly recover, forcing himself to sit back up again, his gaze traveling between the glass cock thrusting in and out of his begging hole, to the more gradually aroused face staring down at him.

On one pass between the two sights, Rhys notices the tension at the front of Jack’s pants. Even behind the thicker fabric, it’s obvious his cock was looking for a release. Swallowing hard, Rhys shifts his posture slightly, looking up to his lover as enticingly as he can hope to pull off. “You’re not going to fuck me? Don’t you, ah– at least want to… to touch yourself?”

Already slender eyes narrow further, Jack’s expression altering just a touch at the inquiry. But the questioning in his face is shifted to a certain level of smugness, and leaning against the bed he’s quick to point out, “Who says I wasn’t gonna? Awfully bold to assume I didn’t have plans, princess. Especially when I’m being so generous with you tonight.”

The toy’s thrust in sharply. Rhys’s body melts to the flat of his back, the recording ECHO eye just barely able to focus on the now blurring ceiling as he’s thoroughly fucked. His body is pulled along the bed, undoubtedly dragged closer to the edge as broad fingers dig into his thigh. Squeezing his eyes closed, he’s embarrassed to think about how his crescendoing panting and moaning is going to sound once played back. The eerie glow of the recording light still present even now proves almost distracting enough to soften the force driving into him for a moment.

Just a moment, of course, as Jack wasn’t one to allow Rhys a second of diverted attention during their times together. The unbuckling of a belt and the sound of a zipper being lowered feels almost deafening now, luring Rhys’s attention back to Jack without hesitation. Seeing the all-too-familiar cock cupped in Jack’s relaxed hand has his breath hitching. His tongue peeks out for just a second in a reflexive response.

“C’mon pumpkin, on the disgusting floor.”

Rhys’s face heats up more to the command, but the warmth blossoms even stronger as Jack releases hold on the glass toy still pushed halfway inside of him. He doesn’t have to ask to know the answer. That he’s supposed to get on the floor with this thing still occupying his ass. With a whimper he can’t help but let out, Rhys nods dutifully, shakily pulling himself upright until he’s able to awkwardly lower himself to the floor.

It’s cold, and the previous use of the word ‘disgusting’ – even if intended to only serve as dirty talk – has Rhys fixating briefly on specks of dirt and grit scattered about. He feels lewd on his knees like this now, his ass clenched to a degree to hold the weighty glass object inside. Slutty, that’s what he was. Tilting his head up to make eye contact with Jack solidifies that observation, the older man looking down in that way that made him feel like a plaything.

He’s still recording every sight he was taking in, still picking up every little sound that was made. Rhys wants to climax so badly.

Taking the heavy cock in his own hand, Rhys hesitates for a moment so he can take the sight in fully. He’d enjoy this later. How achingly hard Jack’s cock is, tanned flesh a striking contrast to his light-toned hand, the glistening wetness of precum that had been smeared against the tip. The pronounced, bulging veins that make Rhys want to moan without any other provocation.  


An impatient clearing of a throat above him demands Rhys’s attention, looking up once more to perhaps apologetically nod his head, more quickly returning focus to the weight in his hand.  


He’s not restrained in how he licks at the tip and around its circumference, his tongue coated generously with saliva. Fingers wrapping around the base, Rhys parts his lips wider as he begins taking the length into his mouth, humming faintly as Jack assists in pushing his hips forward at the same time. His eyes are closed now, the video light a persistent reminder of what he was so secretly doing. If Jack ever found out…

...he’d probably be surprised, not figuring Rhys to be a likely candidate for such an act. Aroused, as well, and absolutely demanding in his interests to see said recordings.

The thought is humiliating on its own, but not enough for Rhys to cancel the video being taken. He could only imagine the horrors that would occur if Jack ever did find out – he’d want to record every sexual act between them from then on out. All the time, no matter what. That is, assuming he wasn’t doing so already.  _ That _ thought makes Rhys tense up.  


His body isn’t subtle in the reminder that there was still a long, glass toy deep inside of him, his cock bobbing needily between his legs. He pulls his head back, Jack’s cock sliding along his tongue. Slick, warm, deliciously stiff.  


Rhys continues his actions, determined to have thick, salty cum spilling into his mouth soon in the hopes of being allowed his own release. He wants to fuck himself on the fake cock inside of him until his organic counterpart can’t stand it any longer. It wouldn’t take much, not after everything else he had endured thus far.  


But Jack was clearly in a ‘no, me first’ kind of mood. Pulling off the shaft in his mouth nearly all the way, Rhys silently admits that Jack deserved it. In his own words, he had been so generous all night. And as if he was reading Rhys’s mind, from above him, Jack groans, a wide-spread hand settling onto the back of his head. “Keep going -  _ gh _ . If I hear that dildo hit the floor you won’t– ...won’t wanna know what I’ll replace it with.”

Rhys is confident that Jack was close. Previous encounters made the signs easy to decipher: the increasing pressure applied to Rhys’s head, the hushed but steady panting barely suppressed while he spoke, how even the smallest jerks of his hips felt like he was riding the edge of an orgasm. He was frustrated – he wanted it now, no longer dedicated to any semblance of patience.

Now stroking the base of Jack’s erection while he continued to service the upper half, Rhys picks up the pace. He’s able to split his attention, just enough so that he could enjoy the fullness of the toy’s presence.  
“Jerk yourself off, kitten.” The order is forced out between labored breathing, accompanied by a step back.

Rhys isn’t lucid enough to understand the action fast enough for Jack’s liking, evident by the strong hand pushing down on his shoulders while the older man now strokes his own cock once more. There’s another strong push and Rhys cries out, his bent legs splaying apart further, the object inside of him forced in deeper as he’s all but shoved to the floor. A trembling hand somehow manages to wrap around his leaking cock though, ECHO eye fixed on the sight of Jack stroking himself with such a fervent pace. Rhys instinctively opens his mouth like the well-behaved slut he was for the man.

The timing is perfect – hot splashes of cum painted onto his tongue sticking out almost eagerly. Most hits his face, some landing on his chest while he continue to pleasure his own cock, his body trying what it could to fuck itself on the difficult to manage toy. He groans in minor irritation, craving more of a thrusting action he couldn’t perform right now, not with a toy that lacked a suction cup anyway.

But the sight of Jack still standing before him, the recording light of the ECHO eye steadily beating alongside his now relaxing body, Rhys feels the tension pooling in his gut tighten. A few more hasty, needy strokes along his cock makes him climax, relief immediate as his left hand is quickly made a mess. He forces his focus to remain on Jack while the orgasm fades away, the audio line stretched along the lower half of his vision jumping and flickering with each labored breath.  


As Jack steps around him, surely going to the bed, Rhys tilts his head down in order to admire the shiny wetness on his hand and the floor beneath him. As he stops the recording, the red flashing light now replaced with a cycling saving wheel, something hits the back of his head. With a groan, he reaches to fetch the article of clothing – his own shirt – and uses it to haphazardly clean up the mess they had both made.

The spinning saving wheel disappears as Rhys awkwardly removes the glass toy from his body, and with even less grace he shoves the damn thing into the already soiled shirt. He leaves the bundle on the floor. It was Jack’s toy, he could clean it up.  


Feeling uncomfortably empty now, although enjoying the hazy afterglow of such a satisfying orgasm, Rhys climbs onto the bed finally. He falls alongside his partner who’s entirely settled down by now, lounging on his back with both hands behind his head. He’s still half-dressed with his pants open at the front, Rhys notes as he collapses onto the sheets. He rests his cybernetic hand atop the softness of Jack’s chest, allowing his tired eyes to finally close for longer than a few seconds.

“Always fun watching that cute dick of yours leak all over my fucking bedroom floor, pumpkin.” The statement is accented with a yawn, the words more laid-back than they might’ve sounded to someone other than Rhys.

He feels an unexpected warmth blossom in his cheeks and he’s silently thankful Jack can’t see the redness from how close they were laying. An arm is brought to curl around his body, adding to the heat spreading through his face, but Rhys tries to pull himself together. It’s hard not to think about the recording now saved privately, just for his own future pleasure. Forcing himself to nod against Jack’s shoulder, he stutters, “Fun watching you. Too.”

It feels like a dead giveaway that something was off, and Rhys braces himself for some kind of reaction from Jack. He starts formulating excuses, any kind of explanation for saying such an uncharacteristic thing. Sure, he always took pleasure in watching his partner. That wasn’t a lie, it was just...a strange thing for him personally to verbally express.

But the seemingly inevitable questioning never arrives. Faint and vague patterns are traced along Rhys’s still exposed shoulder, slowing down over time as Jack further relaxes. It takes Rhys himself longer to settle, unable to stop thinking about what he had gotten away with. Biting his tongue to suppress a cunning smile, he’s already musing over when he might be able to watch the video.   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have another ongoing fic to work on first, and I'll be traveling this week, but the second chapter for this will be up next! Keep an eye out, trust me it's going to be a good one :)
> 
> All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for taking the time to read, I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
